


Fanfic Healing

by elaine



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Magical Healing Cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair discover a new sentinel ability.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fanfic Healing

“Ow,” Blair muttered under his breath. “Owowow…”  
  
Jim froze, his cock buried halfway inside Blair's ass and repressed a sigh. “We don't have to do this now. We can wait.”   
  
He even managed to make the offer sound sincere. Which it was, to a degree. He was still feeling guilty about the fact that Blair got shot in the thigh while in pursuit of a perp that Jim had allowed to escape. The fact that he'd been writhing on the ground in agony from the shrill blast of a dog whistle right next to his ear was not, as far as Jim was concerned, an adequate excuse for his lapse in attention.  
  
As he usually did, Blair demolished Jim's scruples with irrefutable logic. “It's been a  _whole week_ , Jim!”  
  
Jim didn't bother to reply that, before Jim and Blair had both come down with Fanfic Flu – and the inevitable side effect of Sudden Onset Gayness – it had been fairly common for Jim to go a lot longer than a week without any sexual gratification other than his right hand. Blair could be very selective about the data he chose to admit to his paradigm – whatever the hell  _that_  meant. Instead he rested his forehead against the back of Blair's neck and tried not to sneeze when the short hairs tickled his nose.  
  
All right. Withdrawal wasn't an option and staying where he was probably wouldn't appeal to Blair any more than it did to him. Persistence seemed like the only alternative. Slowly, he pressed deeper, doing his best not to jar Blair's wounded leg. It seemed to work, as the 'ows' gradually gave way to long drawn out 'ohhhhs' and finally frantic 'oh, gods' before Blair made that strangled little groaning noise that Jim secretly thought was the sexiest sound in the known universe and came all over his hand.  
  
Now was the time to earn a few Good Boyfriend Points… Jim pulled out carefully, allowing Blair to roll onto his back, and finished himself off. Blair let out a heartfelt sigh.  
  
“Happy now?” Jim reached for the wipes and started cleaning them both up.  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Blair turned his head to smile lazily at him. He chuckled throatily – the second sexiest sound in the known universe. “Endorphins, man, I told you. I am feeling  _no_  pain…”  
  
“Yeah. Tell me that again in the morning.” Jim reached across him to turn off the light and settled down beside him. He lay awake for a long time, listening to Blair gently snoring.  
  
***  
  
Jim was downstairs frying bacon and scrambling eggs when he heard Blair yawn and a distinctive rustling sound as he shoved aside the comforter. A pair of feet hit the floor with a thud and footsteps headed for the top of the stairs. Jim frowned. He'd decided to add to his store of GBPs, in the sure knowledge that sooner or later he'd need to draw on the goodwill they engendered, by serving Blair breakfast in bed. Besides which, Blair was  _supposed_  to be keeping off that leg.  
  
He looked up as Blair appeared at the top of the stairs. He'd pulled on his shorts, but they didn't even come close to covering the dressing on his right thigh. It hurt, almost physically, to look at it, and Jim glanced away quickly.  
  
“Hey, Jim.” Blair's greeting was unexpectedly cheery, even allowing for their having sex last night. He trotted down the stairs without even the trace of a limp. “Bacon? Scrambled eggs? OJ? What's the occasion?”  
  
“No occasion. You're supposed to be resting that leg, remember?” Considering Jim had had to half carry Blair up the stairs, he was looking pretty damned chipper. Maybe he'd been playing the sympathy card last night.  
  
“Breakfast in bed?” Blair waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Jim, I am  _so_  with you on that. Just let me take a piss and clean up a bit, and then you can get me all  _dirty_  again.”  
  
“Just don't get the dressing wet.” Jim growled, though certain parts of him were taking interest in the conversation. “I'll change it for you after we've eaten.”  
  
“Sure, whatever.” Blair headed off to the bathroom, leaving behind a trail of pheromones that made Jim feel lightheaded and tingly. The bacon was crisp enough, he decided, and the coffee was almost ready. He started piling everything onto the tray.  
  
***  
  
Breakfast eaten, Blair was all ready to take up where they'd left off last night, but Jim forced himself to stand firm. “I'll check your dressings first.”  
  
“Way to kill the mood,” Blair grumbled, but lay back while Jim started peeling off the tape. “I'm telling you, Jim, my leg's fine. In fact, it feels good as new.”  
  
Jim lifted away the dressing and felt his insides twist in shock. Good as new was a pretty apt description of how Blair's leg looked. There was just a faint hint of scarring, probably only visible to a sentinel. It hadn't looked like that last night. “Uh… Chief…”  
  
“What?” Blair must have realised something was up. He lifted his head off the pillow, alarm suffusing his face. “What is it, Jim? Is something wrong?”  
  
“Honestly, Chief? I don't know.” Jim ran his fingers lightly over the place where the wound had been. Nothing – sight, touch, scent – indicated any kind of problem, but this just wasn't possible. “Take a look.”  
  
Blair wrinkled his nose a little, but pushed himself up on his elbows. His eyes widened. “Oh, my god…”  
  
“I know.” Jim shook his head, tendrils of worry turning his blood to ice in his veins. He didn't trust anything that didn't make sense. Sure, it was great that Blair's wound was apparently healed, but…  
  
“Oh! My! God! Jim!” Blair was practically vibrating with energy. “It's  _real_! I thought it was just a myth, but it's really true!”  
  
Oh, god… not more crazy voodoo shit. “Please tell me it's not some sentinel thing.” Jim practically begged.  
  
“It's  _totally_  a sentinel thing.” Blair's eyes were gleaming and he was grinning like an idiot. “I've read about it online, but I thought it was just, you know, some overblown fantasy about the healing powers of sex.”  
  
Jim sighed. “Have you been hanging out on fanfic.net again? I told you-“  
  
“No. Don't be silly.” Blair waved his hand dismissively. “Sure, it's interesting from a cultural Anthropology perspective, but if I want really good info on sentinel mysticism, 852Prospect and ASR3 are my go to places. Those people are frikking  _experts_ , Jim. They know everything there is to know about sentinels.”  
  
“And a whole lot of stuff they just made up.” Jim knew. He'd been to those sites a few times. Okay, a  _lot_  of times; and got a few good ideas in the bedroom department, but he wasn't going to mention that.  
  
Blair snorted indignantly. “Hey, I didn't hear you complaining when I tried-”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Jim cut him off hurriedly. “But mystical healing with the power of my cock? I mean, come  _on_ , Blair, do you really believe that?”  
  
“Hey, it's a hypothesis. It fits the observed phenomenon.” Blair looked thoughtful, and that was always a dangerous sign. “We'll have to do some tests.”  
  
“Tests?” On the one hand, tests mean – he assumed – lots of sex. On the other hand… “No. Definitely no tests.”  
  
“Jim.” Blair looked up at him earnestly. “You don't have to  _shoot_  me. We could start with something smaller – a stab wound maybe.”  
  
“No!”  
  
“A cut?” Blair wheedled. “Just a little one?”  
  
“You want to find out whether my healing cock can cure tetanus, Chief?” Lockjaw was sounding pretty good, actually.  
  
Blair sighed. “A burn? Or…” he brightened, “how about a twisted ankle? No. Not the ankle. I don't want to be limping around for a week if it doesn't work.”  
  
“At last, he gets it.” Jim shook his head. “Only you would think of maiming yourself to test a crackpot theory.”  
  
“Yeah, I was thinking maybe a sprained wrist. The left one.” Blair beamed at him. “That way I can still manage if… Ow!”  
  
Jim surveyed the bite mark on Blair's inner thigh. It was perfect – hard enough to leave a red mark, already darkening into a bruise, but not hard enough to break the skin. And placed where nobody but Jim would see it if the whole healing cock theory was the crap he expected it to be. He smiled. “In the mood  _now_ , Chief?”  
  
***  
  
Twenty-four hours later, Jim was exhausted. After the bruise had disappeared without trace, Blair had insisted on duplicating the experiment. Then, he'd wanted to escalate the injuries. Jim had finally drawn the line after Blair cut his palm open with a kitchen knife. (“It  _never_  bleeds that much on TV, Jim… Ow, ow, ow! Hurry… oh god, I feel sick…”) But by then, the evidence was incontrovertible. Jim had a magical sentinel healing cock.  
  
Blair was ecstatic.  
  
Jim… wasn't. “If I see anything –  _anything at all_  – about this in the diss, I'll get Simon to pull your ride-along status so  _fast_ …”  
  
“I give you my  _word_ , Jim…” The earnestness of Blair's declaration was slightly diminished by his falling asleep mid-sentence.  
  
***  
  
As it always did, Blair's enthusiasm for running tests on his sentinel found a new outlet when he read an article about people who could see into the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums of light. That he'd done so on a Buffy the Vampire Slayer site did not in the least mitigate his curiosity as to whether a sentinel had the same abilities as a (fictional, Jim hoped) vampire.  
  
Although Jim was relieved that he was no longer being constantly bombarded with demands for healing sex, he had to admit, it had been one of the more… rewarding… series of tests. He sighed, and started stacking the dinner dishes preparatory to washing them.  
  
“Ow!” Blair came out of his old bedroom, sucking on a finger, his eyes gleaming. “Jim… I got a splinter in my finger.”  
  
Jim pulled his t-shirt off over his head, happily abandoning the dishes. “Let me take care of that for you, babe.”  
  
Blair did seem to be very accident prone, lately.  
  



End file.
